“Unidentified Vessel, identify yourself immediate. Repeat. Unidentified Vessel, identify yourself immediately,” was Blyyn’s immediate communications prompt.
The large seed shaped ship was massive. It was by no means a capital ship, but Blyyn had never seen anything like it.
It didn’t look like any cargo or mining vessel that Blyyn had ever seen.
Playing the station sensors over the vessel, the vessel seemed to be far heavier and far more shielded than was standard.
Blyyn wondered if perhaps a company’s prototype of some kind had just shown up. Perhaps there would be a reward…. Or a death warrant.
Elders in the higher technology families were very particular about who knew about their developments. Assuming it was a Quinn design, which Blyyn was quick to start doubting as the sensors revealed chambers 50% larger than those aboard their station.
Why would another species be testing a prototype so close to Quinn space? Was this some kind of malfunction? Or was this intended as some kind of first strike?
The communications prompt recycled again and again, but no answer yet.
The vessel appeared to shudder slightly and glow like a star for a moment, but stationary.
After that moment, it returned to normal.
The sensors capturing the event twitched, but gave no indication as to what had just happened.
A laser communication connected.
“Our sincerest apologies for our unexpectedly close arrival. Vessel Reports: TSS Esperanto, Captain Rixim commanding, TACIT Munto 41972 translating. Please reply with lexicon,” came the text readout.
Blyyn shook their feathers twice. A… A TACIT that wasn’t on itself? And what’s more, a TACIT being here?
TACITs were rare and typically only present at major species gatherings. Out of 100,000 vessels that would pass through a system, perhaps one would be a TACIT.
But Blyyn’s systems should have automatically understood what a TACIT looked like and it should not have taken that long for the TACIT to respond.
Blyyn’s pin feathers felt fuzzy as they sent over the local lexicon.
“TSS Esp-par-unto, is it? This is Nyvit Solar Ranger Station 3. Please identify status,” Blyyn sent back vocally via the laser link.
“TSS Esperanto reports – No casualties. No hardware malfunctions. Origin 371Z.2871E.271910Q,” reported the text.
It took Blyyn a full two minutes to punch in that origin code, it being a fully formed origin code, not the abbreviated ones they had come to know well.
When Blyyn saw the origin point, they knew this had to be special prototype of some kind. No known ship could cross that kind of distance without stopping for recharge. Especially one of that magnitude. Even if a good chunk of the vessel were dedicated to storage, which the vessel could have been, but given the shielding, Blyyn had no way of knowing.
“TSS Esperanto’s captain seeks voice communications. Live translation via text is available. Does Nyvit Solar Ranger Station 3 accept?” came the follow up text.
Blyyn was still very confused, but perhaps this was how whomever controlled that system operated with TACITs. Having never dealt with one and only having heard stories about them, they had no real answers.
“I accept,” Blyyn vocalized to the link.
“Hello there. I’m Rix. Uh… I come in peace,” was the strange sound that was emitted. ‘Hello there. My designation is Rix (Translation note: Captain Rixim). I arrive with no ill-intentions towards yourself,’ was the matching readout.
“I am Station Master Blyyn of the Quinn. To which species am I communicating?” Blyyn was slightly annoyed at having to be more formal, but given the legendary translation of the TACITs, they didn’t want to be any less than exacting.
“Terran or human, depending who you’re talking to. What’s a Quinn, Em?” the strange sounds continued. ‘Species Designation: Terran (Extinct). Inquiry to TACIT regarding Species Designation: Quinn,’ was the readout.
Blyyn shook their feathers again. An extinct species was allegedly on the other end of this? What kind of joke was this?
“I do not appreciate the attempt at humor. Please provide the appropriate species name,” Blyyn muttered into the voice link, perhaps a bit more stuffily than they intended.
‘Species Designation: Terran. Extinction status appears to be in error. Docking requested. Species tolerances within 2% for atmosphere and normal Quinn gravity,’ came the text read-out without the sounds.
“What about… quarantine procedures?” Blyyn had to take a moment to think of the term. They hadn’t needed it in so long that they were surprised they remembered it.
‘One moment please.’
Blyyn tried to think about what they could do if this… Terran, whatever that was, wanted to dock. And what did they want to dock for? Were they lost? Out of fuel for whatever their system was?
There were some medical tools available on the station, but they were little more than stabilizing systems and stasis with automated distress systems.
“Identify reason for docking request?” Blyyn tried.
‘Captain wishes to meet a Quinn.’
Xenophiles were unusual, but it would be fairly odd to have one in charge of a secret prototype, at least in Blyyn’s opinion. One would think that a xenophobe would be much more oriented to keeping such technologies internal so as to capitalize on it for their house.
Even the xenophiles who came through the inner stations were little more than menials, working for the benefit of being able to see the universe, such as it is.
‘Is Nyvit Solar Ranger Station 3 equipped with Level 2 portable medical fields?’
Blyyn had to search in their computer. In theory, the Ranger Station was supposed to be able to function as a fully independent surgical center. In practice, most of the necessary gear was out of date or in need of repair.
A portable medical field generator was a heavy piece of gear that could provide an ‘area of effect’ sterilization zone. It tended to require skilled users in order to set it up though. And a level 2 was of the heavy duty variety.
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Blyyn was lucky there. Heavy duty for the Quinn was usually just enough compared to the galactic standards. At least in the biochemical context.
That meant that any portable medical field that would be aboard would almost certainly be a level 2.
It took several further minutes, but they located that it should be in the far docking bay.
“Level 2 Portable Medical Field generator onboard. I don’t know the status though,” Blyyn vocalized without thinking about it.
‘Understood. Awaiting status update. TSS Esperanto station keeping at position.’
Blyyn tapped their way down the corridors, their claws scraping a bit in the speed of their passage. This would be so much faster if they could fly, but these halls weren’t big enough for flying without risking their wingtips.
Upon reaching the far docking bay, it took more than 30 minutes to locate the container holding the portable medical field generator. Sadly, it was on the top shelf and weighed more than Blyyn.
Blyyn glanced at the loader.
Technically they had been trained on it. Technically they could use it. Realistically, there was something about the loader that bothered Blyyn. It just looked wrong, almost terrifying to Blyyn.
Something in how it was constructed perhaps.
Carefully, Blyyn climbed into the loader and checked the power cells. It was low, but should work for as long as they needed.
It took them another full ten minutes to get the loader into position and began lifting down the container.
It was also then that one of the primary pistons froze.
Blyyn despaired. They couldn’t shift the generator and they certainly weren’t repair qualified to try and fix the loader.
Blyyn shut down the loader, locking it in place as best as they were able and sped their way back to the command station.
“Station 3 calling TSS Esperanto,” they vocalized.
‘TSS Esperanto receiving.’
“Generator unavailable due to hardware issues. I wouldn’t be able to set it up even if I could get it down,” Blyyn said, pin feathers feeling smooth.
There were a few moments before the next message came in, just long enough for Blyyn to wonder if the message had been received.
‘Generator malfunction or generator location relative to airlock controlled docking bay?’
“What? What’s that supposed to mean?” was Blyyn’s automatic vocalization.
‘Please identify nature of generator non-availability.’
“It’s stuck on the loader in the docking bay. I can’t move it myself and it’s locked into the loader anyway,” Blyyn’s pins felt fuzzy again.
Another few moments passed.
‘Loader vacuum rated?’
“What? Why?” Blyyn felt even more confused.
No update came as a result of the query.
Blyyn took a moment to think. Yes, technically the loader was vacuum rated, but they’d never operated it in a vacuum before and maintenance of the loader was supposed to be done in atmosphere in any case.
Maybe this Esperanto had a loader or some auto-repair system that could help and to keep the quarantine exposure risk low, the Captain or the TACIT wanted to try working in the vacuum.
It was surprisingly forward thinking. Blyyn was intrigued by this the more they considered it.
“Um, yes, the loader is technically vacuum rated. I’ve never used it that way before though,” Blyyn vocalized after a bit.
‘Understood. Please approve approach for docking to related docking bay and prepare for depressurization in docking bay.’
“Copy all. I guess I’ll see you in a few then,” Blyyn said, tapping up the right authorization codes and sending them, the station already beginning to wake up the distant docking bay mechanisms and checking the airlocks.
Blyyn then connected their headset, an audio visual device which acted as a kind of heads-up display, to the communications system. It was imperfect and Blyyn hated to use it, but in order to work this kind of coordination between the station and the Esperanto, whatever it was, they would need to have the live communications, especially while in the loader.
Blyyn hurried down and climbed into the loader, depressing the buttons to enclose the loader around them. Already, Blyyn could feel the claustrophobia getting to them.
The power was still low, but managable.
Toggling the remote airlock and depressurize control from heads-up display, Blyyn watched as the chamber around them seemed to have a spur of wind before going silent.
For just that moment of wind, Blyyn wanted to be planetside again, floating in the air, feeling the wind in their feathers.
And just like that, the moment was gone and Blyyn turned back to the task at hand.
Through the feet of the loader, Blyyn felt the heavy clunks of the docking arms engaging. It wouldn’t be long now.
It wasn’t going to be their first exposure to a xeno species. Merely a rarity in their experiences.
Turning their head to look at the docking airlock, Blyyn waited to see what stepped through.
The simple mechanical walking frame made Blyyn almost instantly sigh with relief. They weren’t going to be trapped inside this loader facing a Terran, something the TACIT had apparently mislabeled as extinct.
However, when the massive figure began to emerge from behind the walking frame, Blyyn wanted to panic.
It… it was too big to be an organic, right? It had to be.
It had to be some kind of cargo walking frame. Like a smart version of the walking frame.
Blyyn tried to calm down, but couldn’t seem to as the massive figure approached the loader with the walking frame.
The figure gestured at the loader and at the equipment, apparently talking with the walking frame via some sort of direct communication.
The walking frame moved up and appeared to look at the loader, possibly scanning it.
No… whatever the massive figure was, it was no machine, that much was obvious.
It was then that the massive figure jumped and reached out towards the container holding the medical field generator. The jump had to have been mechanically assisted. Even Blyyn couldn’t jump like that standard gravity.
Blynn checked the loader’s readings and confirmed that there was still a standard gravity outside, even if there was no atmosphere.
Blyyn considered the figure. Bipedal, two upper limbs with grips that looked like they belonged to a heavily specialized loader or repair system, a fully reflective helmet hiding the face of the being. Whatever the being was, it was different from anything Blyyn had ever encountered, even in their explorations of fictional species.
The walking frame, mostly unnoticed, had gone over to the nearby station panel and plugged itself in. It wasn’t until Blyyn got a message via the heads-up display that they realized that the walking frame had connected in.
‘Please identify issue with loader.’
“Are you in here with me?” Blyyn asked, wary of the reported abilities of TACITs.
“Only to the extent required,” came a mechanical voice.
“Uh… hello,” Blyyn said, caught off-guard by the voice.
“I am Munto. The other being is the Esperanto’s captain, Rix. Please allow us to assist with your loader,” the mechanical voice said and the head-up display flashed a rune for ‘pleasant greeting’.
“I… uh… one of the pistons is stuck. I’m not rated in loader repair,” Blyyn managed, taking a moment to digest the rune. They hadn’t used runes in so long, it took a second to remember the meaning.
The walking frame apparently communicated this to the large figure, which moved closer to the loader. The large figure then drew back an upper appendage and hit one of the pistons.
The hit made the whole of the loader shudder, Blyyn feeling as though they had just been struck as the loader had been.
“Please try and lower the container now,” the mechanical voice said as the large figure stepped back out of the way.
Blyyn was skeptical and keeping an eye on the large figure, depressed the lever to lower the container. The piston which had been stuck slid smoothly downward this time and the container rested on the floor.
“We will set up the generator if you are unable to or we can return to our vessel until you have enabled it,” the voice Blyyn knew as Munto – the TACIT – said.
“I wouldn’t know the first thing about it,” Blyyn admitted, backing the loader as far away from the large figure was possible.
“Very well. I will need to disconnect, but you can begin refilling the space with standard atmosphere once I signal you,” Munto said.
Blyyn watched in a kind of stunned silence as the walking frame went over and opened the locks to the container, apparently too small for the larger being to manipulate in their pressure suit.
The larger being manipulated the container as though it was little more than an annoyance.
The walking frame plugged into the container contents, a Quinn standard portable medical field generator. It wasn’t one of the self-powered varieties, which Blyyn noted as the large figure took a cable from beside the generator and walking it to an outlet on the side of the bay.
It took far less time than Blyyn expected, but the walking frame appeared to manipulate the generator far faster than they ever might have.
The silvery light of the active generator began to gently fill the bay.
The walking frame waved at Blyyn and Blyyn triggered the pressurization sequence.
The walking frame and the large figure appeared to just stand in place, waiting for the air to return. The large figure made some vague gestures, ones that Blyyn couldn’t follow, but it seemed that the walking frame of the TACIT and the large figure were communicating. None were made in the direction of Blyyn.
Once the air returned, Blyyn unlocked the loader from vacuum mode and switched it off, climbing down.
The large figure had removed their helmet and was looking at Blyyn intensely when Blyyn looked over.
Blyyn screeched in alarm and collapsed.